#Chicago Ridge Illinois

[dontmean2bepoliticalbut]

[urbs-in-horto]

West Ridge Nature Preserve on N Western Avenue, created out of wetlands on undeveloped Rosehill Cemetery property.

More info about Rosehill and Bowmanville can be found at Edgewater Historical Society and Digital Research Library of Illinois History Journal websites.

[odysseystorage]

Hire Storage Containers in Chicago

For both home and commercial use, Odyssey Storage Rental offers storage containers in Chicago. We promised economical, dependable storage for your supplies or items. Phone us right away.

[railwayhistorical]

In the Capital City

This post will conclude the series focusing on one train, powered by F-units, on the former Chicago & Alton, later GM&O/ICG.

We begin at Ridgely Yard, Springfield, Illinois, where our train is approaching a signal bridge adorned with a color position light for each main track. The second image has the train crossing over North Ninth Street, while the third shows it south of downtown Springfield at Iles Tower. You may be able to see in that last image that the engineer is leaning out of the window, arm extended, so he can pick up train orders on the fly.

Three images by Richard Koenig; taken November 21st 1976.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 15 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - you and Spencer spend time with other people which ends up bringing you closer together. Meanwhile, Garcia makes a discovery.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - Spencer and reader with other people, oral (m receiving), murder, swearing, penetrative sex, protected sex, angry Spencer, fingering, suicide mentions, mentions of miscarriage, tears.

WC - 4.6k

Chapter 15 - The Haunting

Penelope Garcia looked at the confusing information on her screen with a heavy frown furrowing her forehead. The information wasn’t wrong, she knew that wasn’t possible, but it didn’t mean it made any sense. 

On Sunday JJ had gone to try and see Spencer again and had noted he had mail piling up as though he hadn’t been home for a while. She also couldn’t find his car anywhere. On Monday, armed with the information, Emily had reluctantly agreed to let Garcia put out an APB on Spencer’s missing vehicle. 

It was now Thursday and the team had just arrived back from a case in Chicago. Still frowning at the screen, Penelope printed the information before hurrying out of her bat cave and down the corridor to where everyone had just returned to the bullpen. 

Emily noticed the confusion on the tech analyst's face immediately and frowned as the colourful woman headed her way in too high heels.

“Please don’t tell me we have another one?” Emily groaned, the rest of the team now looking at her. 

“Uh not exactly. I, uh, I think I found boy wonder’s car.” She thrust the printout at Emily who took it and scrutinised it.

“What? Where?” JJ was quickly at her side. 

“You found his car, but not him?” Tara frowned. 

Emily sighed as she looked at the crime scene photographs of an entirely burnt out car surrounded by woodlands. Scanning the notes from the crime scene techs they had discerned the car had once been a canary yellow 1965 Volvo 122S Amazon. The exact same car Spencer drove. 

“Where was this?” Emily looked up at Garcia. 

“In the foothills of the Blue Ridge mountains. It’s been there for at least a week.” Garcia whimpered a little. 

“What is it?” Luke came closer and plucked the sheet of paper from Emily's hand. “Shit.” 

“Someone please share the information.” Rossi encouraged them. 

“A car matching Reid’s was found burnt out in the woods near Franklin County, Virginia.” Emily informed them. 

“Just the car?” JJ’s panic was evident in her voice. 

“Just the car. No one was in it.” Garcia replied. 

“Oh thank god.” JJ breathed. 

“But that begs the question, where is Reid? And why was his car set alight?” Matt scratched the back of his head. 

“And is Y/N with him?” Luke piped up. 

Emily exhaled, looking at the report again before addressing her team. 

“This isn’t an official case,” she regarded each of them individually. “If any of you don’t want to work this, you don’t have to.”

“We’re not going anywhere.” Rossi spoke for them. 

“Agreed.” JJ nodded fiercely. 

“JJ and Rossi will head out to the Franklin County crime lab and take a look at the car. Garcia, have a look and see if there are any rental car companies or used car lots within walking distance of where the car was found. We have to assume he’s ok and he would have needed another way home.” Emily instructed them. 

“But if he’s not ok?” Tara dared to ask. 

“The rest of you start calling local hospitals and see if anyone matching Reid’s description has been admitted in the last week.” 

Everyone nodded in agreement at their assignments and started going their separate ways. Luke felt a pang in a gut, similar to one’s he’d been having since you’d called him from the pay phone in Illinois. Something didn’t feel right and he had a sense that it related to Spencer. He wasn’t sure why, but he was fairly certain if they found him, they would find you too. 

***

Spencer stared at the light fitting hanging above his head, trying not to let himself get too distracted by the halos of light they created on the ceiling. 

His mind wandered over the events of the last week without really meaning to. Since Sunday, when he’d killed Edward Grimes, he’d killed three more times. 

On Monday he drove all the way out to Provo, Utah and murdered Burton Maxwell. On Tuesday he’d gone to Rock Springs, Wyoming and slit the throat of Jeremy Powell. Wednesday had taken him to Flagstaff, Arizona to take care of Harrison Baler. 

In three days he’d clocked well over two and a half thousand miles in the little blue Nissan and despite all the blood he’d shed he didn’t feel satisfied. 

Now it was Thursday and by this point he was exhausted, he couldn’t drive anymore even if he wanted to. Part of the reason he’d kept himself so busy was to limit time spent with you, because he despised the way his heart broke in his chest every time he looked at you. He left early each morning and returned after you were already asleep. 

This morning was the first time you’d seen each other properly since Sunday morning and the air between the two of you was so awkward but he tried to ignore it when you found him in the kitchen. 

“Oh hi stranger. Didn’t expect to see you.” You tugged at the hem of the oversized t-shirt, trying to cover your bare legs. 

“Yeah, sorry I’ve had some business to take care of.” He shrugged, sipping his coffee. 

“Right, of course.” You knew exactly what that meant. 

“I was planning on hanging around today though, if you wanted to grab lunch somewhere or I could try that cooking thing again?” He shrugged, a feeble attempt at extending an olive branch. 

“Uh, I can’t, sorry.” You moved past him toward the coffee machine. 

“Have you not spent every waking minute with GI Mountain Man this week?” He tried to remain calm. 

“Actually no, I haven’t done much of anything this week. Reading mostly. But then I finished my book so I went into town yesterday to buy some new ones and I bumped into Jesse and he asked if I wanted to spend the day with him.” You grabbed a mug and placed it under the spout of the machine. 

“So I’m just old fucking news now right?” He grumbled. 

“Spencer,” you spun back to face him with a frown. “I haven’t seen you for three days! You disappear on your vigilante mission without so much as a word and now you expect me to drop everything because you suddenly want to spend time with me?” 

“Do what you want. I don’t care.” He spat, leaving a half finished cup of coffee on the counter and storming away. 

He hadn’t seen you again after that and at some point he heard you leave the house. He spent a few hours pottering around the cabin but eventually he started to go a little stir crazy and took a walk into town. 

He told himself he didn’t mean to go to Scout’s and scope out the checkouts but that was where he ended up. And low and behold he quickly spotted that head of fire engine red hair. 

He and Mary got talking and he found out she got off work at six and before he’d known it he’d invited her over. 

The noise echoed around the room, the slightly sloppy sounds of saliva and desperation. It had been some twenty minutes now and Spencer didn’t think he’d ever enjoyed a blow job less in his entire life.  

He wasn’t even fully hard anymore, unable to maintain an erection due to the inexperienced mouth around his cock. She was trying, she was trying her best and he felt bad. But she just wasn’t very good. 

Mary kept glancing up at him, questioning with her eyes what was wrong. Eventually Spencer threaded his fingers into her hair and tugged her off of him. A trail of spit led from her chin to the head of his cock and she wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. 

“Am I doing something wrong?” She pouted, kneeling between his legs on the floor. 

“I’m just not feeling it, I guess.” He offered her a smile, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her up until she was in his lap. 

His large hand clutched the back of her neck and brought her closer to kiss her. His tongue roughly thrust inside of her mouth and she gasped into the kiss. 

He started rolling his hips up between her legs, the friction working well to get him standing to attention again in no time. She wore a painfully short skirt despite the temperatures outside and he used his free hand to move her panties aside. 

His cock nestled between her legs, already lining himself up when she suddenly pulled back from his lips. 

“Hang on, one sec,” she blushed slightly, sliding off his lap and scurrying to her bag.

He knew what she was getting and he tried to not roll his eyes. She was being cautious, he kind of admired that about her. But Spencer was really not a fan of condoms. 

She was soon coming back with the little purple packet and kneeling in his lap again. She fumbled in trying to tear it open, a pink hue on her cheeks as she fought with the packaging. 

He was losing wood again, and he rolled his eyes, snatching it from her hands and making quick work of ripping it open. He had to pump his cock a few times before he could slip the condom on. He looked at Mary in his lap, her large green eyes full of embarrassment. 

I can’t fucking look at you, he thought as he lifted her from his lap again and got her to her feet. She frowned as he led her to the side of the couch and bent her over the arm of it, burying her head in the sofa cushion. 

He parted her legs and ran one finger through her folds to make sure she was wet enough for him not to hurt her too much. Pleased she was lubricated enough he lined himself up and soon plunged inside of her. 

Mary yelped, jutting forward at the intrusion but he ignored her. He gripped her hips and started thrusting. 

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it was you but she felt nothing like you. He pictured your face, your smile, your beautiful eyes. He envisioned your perfect breasts, your goddamn delirious pussy. 

But then he started to visualise your phenomenal body, as you climbed into the bed of another man. He pictured that bearded mountain man between your legs, eating you out, fingering you and then fucking you. 

His thrusts were getting rampant and he ignored Mary’s grunts of pain, lost in his own thoughts. His blunt nails dug into her hips as she squirmed beneath him. 

What the fuck has he got that I haven’t got? He’d never be able to fuck her the way I do, make her feel the way I do. He’s not better than me, he’s a fucking meat head mountain asshole. No, she’s mine, she’ll always be mine. 

“Andrew!” A strangled voice pierced his ears, cutting through his violent thoughts. 

He froze and looked down at Mary who had twisted her neck to look at him. Then his eyes cast downwards between their bodies where his completely flaccid cock, sheathed pathetically in the wrinkled condom, had slid out from between her legs. 

He took a step backwards, feeling more exposed than he’d ever felt in his life. He angrily removed the condom and tossed it on the floor, tucking himself back inside his jeans and flopping to the couch. 

Mary tugged down her skirt before coming to sit next to him. He wouldn’t look at her, he was too embarrassed.

“It’s ok,” she cooed. “It happens.” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He grunted. 

“A little.” She shrugged sadly. 

“Well it doesn’t. Maybe if you were a better fuck, I wouldn’t have this problem.” He spat harshly. 

Mary seemed to withdraw into herself at his words, her bottom lip pouting as he landed that blow to her ego. 

“I’ve never had any complaints before.” She huffed, getting to her feet. 

“That’s because the men you usually spread your legs for are young and inexperienced and wouldn’t know a good pussy if it was literally sitting on their cock.” He growled. 

“Or maybe,” she spun back around, eyes wider than normal. “You can’t keep it up because you’re a goddamn old man!” 

Spencer saw red and it had nothing to do with her flamboyant hair colour. He jumped to his feet and advanced on her, causing her to whimper as he backed her into the door. 

“What did you say?” He spat at her. 

“N-nothing.” She swallowed, her previous bravado vanished into thin air. “I’m sorry.” 

“Get out of my house.” He snarled, taking a step back before he did something stupid. “Now.” 

Mary whimpered again, quickly grabbing up her things and scurrying to the door like a frightened puppy. He watched her go and when she closed the door behind herself he fell back to the couch. 

He was instantly flooded with remorse. None of this was Mary’s fault, he was the only one to blame. He’d pushed you into the arms of another man and now he had to suffer the consequences. 

Mary was simply collateral damage in hurricane Spencer Reid’s path. 

***

You’d spent the day with Jesse, walking in the sunshine, pursuing bookstores and drinking an ample amount of coffee in boutique cafes. He’d taken you to dinner and then you’d ended up back at his place. 

The door was barely closed behind you before he was pushing you back against it and kissing you passionately. Whatever nerves he’d had the other day were well and truly gone now and that was confirmed when his hand slipped inside your pants soon after. 

He plunged two fingers inside of you while his thumb rubbed your clit. You moaned against his lips, pushing your back up against the door. He was clearly not wasting any time and you were more than happy with that. 

His lips trailed down your neck as he fingered you and you found the bulge in his pants and started stroking him through the fabric. He hissed into your skin, bucking against your hand. 

“Fuck, I, uh,” he swallowed thickly. “It’s been a really long time, maybe we can just focus on you for now.” 

You giggled, removing your hand from his erection and letting the feeling of his fingers inside of you wash over you. 

You were clenching around his hand, your legs turning to jelly beneath you. You gripped his jaw and kissed him again. 

“Should we take this away from the front door?” You panted. 

“Uh huh, good idea.” He somewhat reluctantly removed his hand from inside your pants and then grasped your wrist, pulling you along to his bedroom. 

You fell to the bed and your lips attached again. You helped each other out of your clothes until you were both completely naked. He rolled on top of you, fingers finding their way back between your legs. You looked him up and down and moaned slightly at the sight of him. 

Almost every inch of skin on both arms from wrist to shoulder were covered in intricate and colourful tattoos. One continued over and down his chest, stopping just shy of his left nipple. You ran your nails along his ribs where another large tattoo was on display. 

“You like them?” He smirked down at you, his fingers working deftly inside you. 

“Hmm.” You hummed. “Very sexy.” 

He chuckled and bowed his head to kiss you again. You felt his hard cock press against your leg and you were suddenly desperate for him. 

“Jesse?” You panted into his mouth. 

“Yes, Rose?” 

“Please fuck me.” You whined, opening your legs and trying to nestle him between them despite the fact his hand was still there. 

He laughed again, continuing to finger you for a few more seconds before he cautiously withdrew his fingers. He knelt over you and reached for the night stand, fishing out a condom. You chewed on your bottom lip as you stared at his hard abs and even harder cock as he ripped open the packet. But he seemed to grow a little hesitant as he rolled it on, hands shaking slightly.

“Fuck, sorry. I’m nervous. Is that weird?” He pulled a face. 

“Not at all.” You tried to reassure him. 

“I’m really sorry if I don’t last very long.” He positioned himself between your legs and you ran your fingers through his thick beard. 

“Jesse, please just fuck me.” You laughed, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

He laughed too, kissing you once more as he slowly edged inside of you. He wasn’t as big as Spencer but despite thinking he would be rusty, he certainly knew what he was doing. 

He didn’t last all that long but it was ok because he still managed to make you come before he himself was pushed over the edge. 

Afterwards you laid side by side in his bed in a mildly awkward silence. You had a feeling he wanted to say something and so you stayed quiet until he found his voice. 

“So, uh,” he rolled his head to the side to look at you. “I was married once.” 

“Oh.” You replied, not entirely sure what to say to that. 

“I met a girl in my freshman year of college and we just fell so fast for each other. We got married when we were twenty one, she fell pregnant two months later. She miscarried really late into the pregnancy and she was never the same again. Her mental health declined day by day, she could barely leave the apartment to go to work. We tried medications and therapists and for a while it seemed to help.

I wanted to try for another baby but she didn’t. No matter how much time passed she wasn’t interested. Our marriage struggled, I really wanted kids. I’m pretty sure we were heading for divorce. We’d been married for seven years when I returned home from work one day and found her in the bathtub with her wrists cut. I can still picture it sometimes, the blood, the lifeless eyes. It haunts me.” 

Your chest tightened to the point it was painful as you looked into the eyes of this wonderful man as he told you about his dead wife. He’d told you his relationship history was complicated but you’d not expected that. 

“Jesus,” you breathed. “That’s horrible, I’m so sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago.” He shrugged. “I didn’t date for a really long time after that, not until I moved back to Butte. I met a woman who ran the Tin Cup Cafe in town and we hit it off. We dated for about a year until she told me one day that it bummed her out that I sometimes said my dead wife’s name in my sleep. She left town after that, I never saw her again.” 

“Shit.” You reached for him, cupping his cheek softly in your hand. “When you said complicated I didn’t think you meant this complicated.” 

“And to top it all off, now I’m falling for a married woman.” He sighed wistfully. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

“I wish I had a choice.” 

“Should I go?” You let your hand fall back to your side. 

“I don’t know. I don’t want you to, but if you stay it might make it harder.” He smiled sadly. 

“I like you, Jesse, I really do.” You confessed. “But I have no idea how long I’ll even be in Crested Butte for and there is still the matter of Sp…Andrew.” You mentally scalded yourself. 

“If it’s just a marriage of convenience, why do you stay with him?”

“It’s…complicated. For lack of a better term.” 

“I just told you about my wife’s suicide, I can handle complicated.” He took hold of your hand encouragingly. 

“He’s my best friend.” You sighed, trying to pick your words carefully. “Something happened and we had to leave our jobs, our homes. We’re not really married.” 

God Spencer would actually kill you if he knew you were telling anyone this. 

“What do you mean?” Jesse frowned. 

“We wear the rings, we say we’re married. But we’re not. It’s just easier somehow.” 

He let go of your hand and looked at you curiously, cogs turning in his head. 

“Are you like, in WITSEC or something?” 

“Not quite that dramatic, but in a sense, I guess.” 

“Is your name really Rose?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“No.” 

“Can you tell me your real name?” 

“No.” 

“So I’m here falling for a woman who I thought was married, but really isn’t and I don’t even know your real name?” He looked at you in exasperation and god how you wished you’d kept your mouth shut. “Fuck, how is that somehow more complicated than my dead wife?”

“I’m sorry.” You rolled your lip between your teeth. “Maybe we shouldn’t have…this was a bad idea.”

He watched you roll over and scrabble to your feet, quickly trying to locate your clothes. 

“You don’t have to go.” He spoke but he didn’t sound so sure. 

“It’s best that I do.” You dressed hurriedly as he observed from the bed. “Please don’t tell anyone. Especially Sp…fuck…Andrew. Please.” 

It made sense to him now why you always tripped over his name, you were hiding his real identity. But he hadn’t missed the look of fear in your eyes when you spoke about him. 

“Is he threatening you? Does he hurt you?” He sat up, sounding panicked. 

“What? No.” You were quick to answer. 

“You said he was a bully.” 

“He has a bit of a temper, but he’s not abusive or anything like that. Look, just forget I said anything, please? I really need you to drop this.” 

He looked like he might argue but eventually he sighed and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Can I walk you home?” 

“No, I’m fine, thanks though.” You finished getting your clothes back on and slid your feet in your shoes. 

He got up and gave you a kiss goodbye, but his eyes looked sad when he pulled away, stroking back your hair. 

“This is over before it really began, isn’t it?” He whispered. 

“I think it has to be. I can’t tell you who I am or where I’ve been, or even where I’m going. I’m sorry, I really am. But you deserve better than that.” You smiled sadly at him. 

“Friends?” He smiled back. 

“For sure.” You nodded, stepping backwards towards the door. “I’ll see you around.”

“I hope so.” He watched you slip from the room and listened to the sound of the front door opening and closing. 

You hurried home, finding the cabin shrouded in darkness and thinking Spencer must have gone out, with Mary or to kill you weren’t sure. 

You found the used condom discarded on the living room floor and rolled your eyes, knowing you couldn’t be hurt after what you’d spent your night doing. You left it there, it was his mess and he could clean it up. 

You headed upstairs, ready to collapse and sleep for a week but as you trudged down the landing you noticed a small sliver of light emanating from under the bedroom door. Tentatively you pushed the door open, worried about what you might find. It was one thing to know he’d slept with someone else, another entirely to have to witness it. 

But upon entering the bedroom, you found Spencer alone, curled up in a foetal position in the middle of the bed, still fully dressed. He hugged his legs to his chest and his face was buried into his knees. 

The lamp on the nightstand illuminated his face and when he glanced up your heart constricted in your chest when you saw the tear stains on his cheeks. He sniffed and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Wordlessly you kicked off your shoes and shucked off your jacket before padding over to the bed and dropping to the mattress. He straightened his legs and held his arms out which you curled into without hesitation. 

He pulled you close, holding you tighter than you’d ever been held before. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel his scratchy stubble against your skin. 

“Please never leave me.” He whimpered, his voice completely shattered. “I’m an ass, I’ve been so terrible to you. I don’t deserve you. But please don’t ever leave me.” 

“Spencer,” you wrapped your arms around him as your own tears appeared out of nowhere and started cascading from your eyes. “I couldn’t leave you, even if I wanted to. Partners in crime, right?” 

“Partners in crime.” He sobbed, holding you impossibly tighter. “He’ll never love you like I do, you know that right?” 

“I know, Spence, I know.” You nodded, burying your head into his chest. 

This was how you’d both eventually fall asleep, sobbing into each other's embrace. But something felt different, something had shifted but you couldn’t quite put your finger on what.

Perhaps it was an understanding that passed between you. You’d been fighting each other this whole time, pushing each other away as though that somehow might make this whole situation easier. If you weren’t so in love with one another, life would be so much simpler. 

But falling for Spencer had happened without rhyme or reason and even if he never planned on catching you and you fell flat on your face, you would love him regardless. 

Maybe he was right, Jesse never would love you like he did, maybe no one ever would. Certainly no one would understand the things you were capable of the way Spencer did. And that was both calming and haunting all at once. 

"Come on in, boy" said the skeletons,

Sitting by her closet door.

Dirty secrets, empty memories,

And broken hearts across the floor.

I was knocked out, heels over head,

So you dragged me by my feet,

To a ghost town, where you buried me,

No wonder no one heard my screams.

Love's so alive, but it died in it's sleep,

And now that it's dead,

I live in your head,

And I will haunt your fucking dreams.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

Run away, boy, if you couldn't tell,

Baby's got a thirst for blood.

A subtle system, wicked melodies,

Craving bullets from her gun.

So I tripped, stayed, follow every word,

Little spirals in their eyes.

Catch a lover, turn an enemy,

Just to watch them burn alive.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

Someday you may find that picture perfect guy,

And I'll chase my words with poison.

Until that day arrives, and swine take to the sky,

Fill your void with open thighs so.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will touch you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

No one will love you like I did,

Will treat you like I did,

So go on, wear that scarlet letter.

No one will love you like I did,

Will fuck you like I did,

So good luck finding something better.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom

[dispelzine]

Walls / Chicago Ridge, Illinois.

[swansongofalyre]

Where to Find Memento Mori (Updated 9/11/2024)

On August 13, two days before 광복절 (Korean National Liberation Day), my debut novel was released. The book is about Korean-American family, and also about Greek mythology, and I promise this combination makes sense in the end. (For those who are curious, I wrote an uncharacteristically personal guest post for Women's Writers, Women's Books on the topic of what inspired me to write a Eurydice and Orpheus retelling about my Korean grandmother.)

It was surreal to go to a store the other day and see it on a table next to Salman Rushdie and other acclaimed writers. After 13 years of this story existing in some form, I'm so excited that this book is finally out—both because it is a beautiful book that I am proud of and that I hope you enjoy, and also because I would love to stop being my own publicist (it is VERY awkward).

So here is an omnibus post of book-related info that I will keep updated and pinned going forward to finally give the memento mori tag a rest. Below the cut, you will find a running list of indie bookstores and public libraries that I know carry my book. (If you have a New York Public Library card and have 5 minutes, I will love you forever if you would email your local branch to ask them to carry my book, thus fulfilling my lifelong dream of living in the NYPL.)

Also below are a few upcoming events at which I have been invited to speak!

Bookstores by State (as of 9/11/2024)

Search for your local bookstore here!

Arizona

Changing Hands Bookstore (Phoenix and Tempe)

California

Gallery Bookshop (Mendocino)

Timbre Books (Ventura) Sold out for now (but you can still order online)!

Indiana

The Press (Valparaiso)

Iowa

Prairie Lights Books (Iowa City)

Maine

Longfellow Books (Portland) Sold out for now (but you can still order online)!

Massachusetts

Nantucket Book Partners (Nantucket) Sold out for now (but you can still order online)!

Porter Square Books (Cambridge and Boston both back in stock!)

Missouri

Skylark Bookshop (Columbia)

Montana

Chapter One Book Store (Hamilton)

New Hampshire

Water Street Bookstore (Exeter)

New Jersey

Watchung Booksellers (Montclair)

New York

Astoria Bookshop (Queens, 1 signed copy left!)

Book Culture (Signed copies at the 112th St. and Broadway stores; also available at LIC and Pittsford Pittsford has sold out for now!)

Books are Magic (Brooklyn, at both Smith St. and Montague St.)

Market Block Books (Troy) Sold out for now (but you can still order online)!

Greenlight Bookstore (Brooklyn) Back in stock!

Shakespeare & Co (Manhattan, Lincoln Center has signed copies; Lexington also as copies back in stock)

Yu and Me Books (Manhattan; comes with bonus goodies, see below!)

North Carolina

Quail Ridge Books (Raleigh)

Oregon

Powell's (Burnside, Cedar Hills, and Hawthorne locations)

Rhode Island

Heartleaf Books (Providence)

Vermont

Phoenix Books (Burlington and Essex)

Washington, D.C.

Politics and Prose (at both CT Ave NW and Union Market)

Washington State

Elliott Bay Book Company (Seattle)

Wisconsin

Woodland Pattern (Milwaukee)

Libraries (as of 09/10/2024)

Worldcat Listings (Probably the most comprehensive)

Libby (for e-books)

California

Berkeley Public Library

Illinois

Chicago Public Library

Kentucky

Lexington Public Library

Maine

Portland Public Library (On Order)

Michigan

Canton Public Library (On Order)

New York

Greenburgh Public Library (Available)

New York Public Library (Available)

Queens Public Library (Available)

Texas

Harris County Public Library (In Processing)

Virginia

Arlington Public Library (In Processing)

Wisconsin

Whitefish Bay Public Library

Washington State

Seattle Public Library

Online

Bookshop.org (US)

Bookshop.org (UK)

Massive Bookshop (all profits go to community bail funds)

Barnes & Noble

Target

KYOBO 교보문고 (Korea)

Upcoming Events

September 3: Astoria Bookshop in conversation with Maia Lee-Chin for the release of her incredible book Et Cetera

September 22: Narrative Bookshop (Somerville, MA) in conversation with Maia Lee-Chin

September 28: Brooklyn Book Festival for a debut authors panel moderated by THEE Edwidge Danticat

October 17: Fall for the Book Festival in Fairfax, VA for a panel on mythology with Rania Hanna, the amazing author of The Jinn Daughter

[cmpunkclips]

Ring of Honor, Punk: The Final Chapter, 13.08.2005.

At the Frontier Fieldhouse, Chicago Ridge, Illinois, in front of ca. 1,200 people.

source

[reinayourparade]

Name: Reina Satō

Age: 32

Birthday/Zodiac: June 11th, 1992 — Gemini

Face Claim: Anna Sawai

Occupation: Family Law Attorney @ Hawthorne, Clark & Associates

Neighborhood: Briar Ridge Hills

Gender & Preferred Pronouns: Cis female & she/her

Brief Bio: tw brief mention of physical abuse

Reina was born into a wealthy family, built on the blood, sweat and tears of her ancestors from years prior who had migrated to the US and had made their name known in Chicago, Illinois.

She is the oldest and only daughter; her mother and father had become satisfied with having her as their pride and joy.

From very young she was pushed to uphold an image of purity, often being shown around to the other families in the nighborhood, at the country clubs, anywehre her parents could.

Reina was put into gymnastics and cheerleading at a young age and continued it up until high school, she had to juggle both sports and keeping her GPA above a 4.0 for her parent's approval.

For a long time—up until middle school age—she was known to be a snobby child, fully embracing the lifestyle her parents had given her and acting the way she was shown to.

The change came from one of her close friends coming out to her and telling her that her father had been physically abusing her, and she felt as if she could do nothing about it because of the status he held.

Reina's eyes seemed to finally open to the corruption of it all, she began reflecting on her behavior, what she was able to get away with and how she wasn't different at all from those around her—she just had more money.

From then on and throughout her high school Reina befriended almost everyone, changing her tune and helping rather than harming others. Her old friends didn't like it as much, and because of that she cut them off...all but a few.

Her parents thought nothing of it at first, seeing as she kept a few of her friends in the same inner circle as before, but they started to notice when she would bring over other kids who didn't fit their mold.

She fought against their wishes hard, arguing almost every other night as they tried to persistently get her to leave them be.... finally, they relented but made it to where she could only bring them over on the weekends when most of their neighbors would be off golfing or at a benefit and wouldn't notice.

Part of what made them relent on this was due to her saying she would quit school; she'd never go to college, and she would live on the streets if need be.

That was what scared them, their image had now been tied to their child and if she was to do something like that and shame them...they'd be the talk of the street for years to come.

Graduating High School with a 4.8 weighted GPA and an Associate's degree, Reina continued to go to school so she could finish up and jump right in Law School—having settled on wanting to practice in Family Law, maybe even being the one to help her friend get justice one day.

When she was 20 she met Benny, and the next four years were some of her happiest memories with someone...ever. They were inseperable, and true, genuine love is what she thought she had found in him.

In 2017 is when her world came crashing down, a breakup she never saw coming and she was left in Chicago with only a year left in school.

Reina went on to finish Law School and get certified to practice in Illinois. She became known as a cut-throat in the court room, getting justice for those less fortunate her main priority.

After 7 years though, she craved....quiet, peace, something slow. She looked around and Briar Ridge came up, seeming by the reviews to be just what she was looking for. She is certified to practice in the state of South Carolina and looks forward to helping more people during her stay.

[myhauntedsalem]

Upon occasion a body must be exhumed or done so by accident. Some exhumations can reveal unusual finds and many famous people who were exhumed are documented by curious witnesses. There is quite a list of famous people who were exhumed for one reason or another. Some of them include:

Daniel Boone – He was buried in Missouri but when moved to Kentucky, they thought they might have the wrong body.

John Wilkes Booth – His body was warehoused until his family finally put him to rest in their area.

Al Capone – His body was moved.

Karen Carpenter – In Karen’s case, they wanted to move her to a new location.

Christopher Columbus – His body had been moved around and so there was some question about whether the remains were his or possibly mixed with another person.

Marie Curie – Her body was exhumed and moved to be put in a place of honor.

Sammy Davis Jr. – Sammy died almost bankrupt so his wife actually had him exhumed to get the 70,000 dollars worth of jewelry he was buried with.

Adolf Hitler – In 1970, remains believed to be his were turned over for cremation.

Benny Hill – Sadly, this beloved comedian was the victim of grave robbery.

Abraham Lincoln – Several people thought to try and steal his body. Eventually, they encased him in concrete.

Lee Harvey Oswald – With the permission of Oswald’s widow, Eddowes had the body exhumed in 1981 and dental records confirmed the man was not a Russian body double, but Oswald himself.

Elvis Presley – Buried in Memphis, he was moved because someone tried to steal his body. He was placed at Graceland

Jesse James – The infamous Wild West outlaw may have died in 1882, but his legend lived on as did persistent rumors that James faked his own death. In 1995, the James family requested the exhumation of their ancestor’s corpse from a Kearney, Missouri cemetery and DNA tests confirmed the remains were indeed those of the outlaw.

Eva Peron – Evita’s body was exhumed and moved to Madrid, where her husband lived in exile. Finally in 1974, her remains were returned to Buenos Aires and buried in a fortified crypt in La Recoleta Cemetery.

Abraham Lincoln – In 1876 a gang of Chicago counterfeiters hatched a scheme to snatch the slain president’s body from his tomb in Oak Ridge Cemetery in Springfield, Illinois, and hold the corpse for a ransom of $200,000 and the release of their best engraver from prison. After law enforcement officials thwarted the grave robbers in the middle of the crime, Lincoln’s body was quickly moved to various unmarked graves until it was eventually encased in a steel cage and entombed under 10 feet of concrete in the same Springfield cemetery in 1901.

Zachary Taylor – In 1991, Taylor became the first president to have his remains exhumed, and tests conclusively showed that he was not assassinated by poison.

Oliver Cromwell – King Charles II exhumed Cromwell’s body on the twelfth anniversary of his father’s execution and in retribution for the regicide staged an execution of his own.

 Simon Bolivar – Twelve years after his death, Bolivar’s remains were exhumed from Santa Marta’s cathedral and transferred to Caracas, Venezuela. The testing by forensic specialists proved inconclusive as to the cause of Bolivar’s death.

[archinform]

Pickwick Theatre, Park Ridge IL

The Pickwick Theatre is an art deco movie theater in Park Ridge, Illinois.

Designed by Roscoe Harold Zook, William F. McCaughey, and Alfonso Iannelli, the Pickwick opened in 1928 as a vaudeville stage and movie theater. It is notable for its marquee and 100-foot tower. The main auditorium, said to resemble an Aztec or Mayan temple, originally seated up to 1,400 people.

The theater was reportedly named for the title character Samuel Pickwick in Charles Dickens' novel The Pickwick Papers. The theater has been fully restored, with the addition of four smaller theaters in addition to the main auditorium.

Simple, restrained and without superfluous ornament, the Pickwick Theatre building yet frankly expresses its purpose. The mass and silhouette were carefully studied in clay before the detail drawings were made. The exterior is Indiana limestone above a base of Minnesota granite.

The American Architect, December 1929

I took these photos on October 12, 2024, when I attended a movie at the Pickwick.

Pickwick Theatre rendering, c. 1927

Images of the Pickwick were published in The American Architect, December 1929

Photographs from the Ryerson and Burnham Libraries, Art Institute of Chicago:

Pickwick Theatre website

[killed-by-choice]

Kathleen Gilbert, 29 (USA 1985)

29-year-old Illinois resident Kathleen Gilbert was a divorced mother who worked as the manager at a local restaurant. When she was pregnant for the final time, she underwent a legal abortion at the hands of David Turow at an abortion facility called Women’s Aid Clinic. (WAC was poorly named, considering that they had already killed Dorothy Muzorewa by leaving fetal body parts inside of her and causing her to bleed to death.)

Similar to what was done to Dorothy, Turow left fetal body parts inside of Kathleen, lacerated her uterus and sent her home to bleed to death with no warning of the danger she was in. Kathleen bled and passed blood clots for a month. She slowly bled to death, finally dying on May 2, 1985.

Kathleen’s death certificate confirms that she bled to death from uterine perforation. Her family sued Turow and WAC. Unfortunately, WAC was not shut down for Kathleen and Dorothy’s deaths. The facility later killed 18-year-old Antonesha Ross, who was only given a paper bag to breathe into as she coughed up blood through her nose and her mouth.

Cook County Circuit Court Case No. 85L 10455

"Illinois, Cook County Deaths, 1871-1998," database, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QGND-Z92D : 18 March 2018), Kathleen S Gilbert, 02 May 1985; citing Park Ridge, Maine Township, Cook, Illinois, United States, source reference , record number , Cook County Courthouse, Chicago; FHL microfilm .

"United States Social Security Death Index," , FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:J2YR-VZD : 9 January 2021), Kathleen Gilbert, May 1985; citing U.S. Social Security Administration, Death Master File, database (Alexandria, Virginia: National Technical Information Service, ongoing).

"Illinois, Archdiocese of Chicago, Cemetery Records, 1864-1989", , FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:Q2HF-44GC : Fri Oct 06 00:54:11 UTC 2023), Entry for Kathleen S Gilbert, 6 May 85.

[blckbarbiedoll]

Ghost Of You (M.B)-Chapter 14

Baby Blues

CONTAINS ANGSTY CONTENT (miscarriage)

2016-Chicago, Illinois

Mikey's hand rested on Angie's leg while his other hand was gripping the steering wheel. "I told you so." He grinned.

"Yeah, you did."

"We're having a little boy."

"I know. Sophia's gonna flip." She smiled and leaned her head back against the seat. "Why're you going down Ridge?"

"It's faster."

"It's also more dangerous. It's a tight ass street, babe."

"I go this way all the time."

She sighed and rubbed her growing stomach. "Could you imagine if we were having twins?"

"Oh my god." He chuckled.

"I'm not saying I want twins. But wouldn't that be crazy?"

"We'd need a bigger car, a bigger apartment." 

"We'd need a house."

"Who's got the money or the time?"

"Not us."

"That's for sure."

"Feel." She brought his hand to her belly. The light push of the baby's feet against her stomach was pressing into Mikey's palm.

"Hey, little guy."

"He's been kicking all day nonstop."

"He just wants to say hi."

She took his hand that was on her stomach and intertwined their fingers. "What do you think of Michael Jr.?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"A kid doesn't need to be named after me."

"I like it."

"How 'bout Carmen?"

"Aw." She grinned and squeezed his hand. "You big softy."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

"I love you." She placed her hand on his cheek.

"I love you too."

As they approached the intersection, the light turned green, and Michael accelerated. Suddenly, a car sped through the red light. Despite Mikey's efforts to swerve, the driver crashed into the side of their car. The impact was jarring, causing the airbags to deploy instantly.

Michael's eyes slowly blinked open. Disoriented from the crash, he quickly turned his attention to Angie. "Angie!" He exclaimed when he saw blood trickling from her forehead. "Are you okay?" He asked, his voices filled with worry.

She nodded weakly. "Michael." She groaned. "The baby."

"I'm gonna call nine-one-one. Okay?" He bent down and fumbled around for his now cracked phone.

"Michael." She grabbed his arm. "Something's wrong." Her breathing got quicker as panic filled her body. She held her stomach and looked up at her husband. "Something's wrong with the baby."

🤍

A month had passed since the accident. Mikey had taken a few days off just to be with Angie and Sophia, and to heal his injuries. But Angie was yet to return to The Beef. Sophia was taking it better than both of her parents, not truly understanding the situation.

"Babe?" Michael whispered. "Are you up?"

"Mhm."

Angie had barely left their bed in the past month. She laid under the covers, trying to avoid conversation.

"Why don't you come eat? I made chicken piccata."

"I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat."

"Later."

He walked around the bed and pushed the covers down. "You need to eat." He pulled her into a sitting position.

"I said I'm not hungry."

"I haven't seen you eat in days. You're gonna make yourself sick. This isn't healthy."

"Oh, and drinking until two in the morning is?"

He scoffed and shook his head. "That's not fair."

"You think I don't know why you avoid being here? I know you look at me, and all you think about is our son. And I can feel you pulling away. I can feel how much you hate me."

"Stop that. Do not say that I hate you. I love you, Angelina Berzatto."

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"Because I blame myself everyday for what happened!" He had tears falling down his face.

Both of them were a teary mess. Mikey sat on the bed and buried his head in his hands. She leaned her head on his shoulder while they both cried.

"I don't like this, Michael. I don’t like feeling sad and helpless.” Angie sniffled. "I don't wanna turn into my mother."

He wrapped his arm around her. "That's not gonna happen to you. I won't let that happen. You hear me?"

"Okay."

"We're just in a bad spot right now. But it's gonna be okay."

"We're gonna be okay." She agreed and pressed her forehead to his.

"Yeah."

"Mommy? Daddy?" Sophia called as she opened their door.

"Hi, baby." Angie grinned, wiping her face. "You're supposed to be asleep."

"I heard you yelling."

"Oh, no, princess." Mikey shook his head. "We weren't yelling." Sophia came to sit right in between her parents. "We were just talking."

"Are you still sad, Mommy?"

"Um...yeah." She felt more tears threatening to come out. "I am a little bit."

She hugged her mother and kissed her arm. "Do you feel better now?"

Angie chuckled as tears rolled down her cheeks. "I do, baby." She picked up the little girl and held her tight.

"Are you sad, Daddy?"

"Yeah. I am."

She leaned over and kissed her dad's cheek. "Better?"

"Definitely."

"Can I sleep with you?" She asked her parents.

"Of course, baby." Angie put Sophia in the middle of the bed while she laid next to her. 

"Come on, Daddy."

Mikey smiled and joined his wife and daughter, hugging them both in his arms.

[odysseystorage]

Container Storage Units for Rent in Illinois

Odyssey Storage Rental is one of the best companies that offer container storage units for rent Illinois. Container storage units are a popular solution for both residential and commercial storage needs, due to their durability, security, and versatility. Contact us today.

[railwayhistorical]

Up and Under

This image comes from the GM&O in central Illinois, for Chicago & Alton. This northbound train is at Green Ridge between Nilwood and Girard. The line overhead is C&NW’s South Pekin-Madison line.

Image by Richard Koenig; taken 21 May 1977.

[snowleopardcatdragon]

The Arts and Crafts Art of the Book

As the Nineteenth Century progressed, the legacy of the Industrial Revolution brought massive changes to the way goods were produced, and many people began to feel these changes were not all for the best. Mechanization allowed vast qualities of goods to be produced, but many felt it alienated workers and produced inferior goods. The Arts and Crafts Movement was one of many artistic and social reform movements of this time. Its adherents believed that happy workers made beautiful things, and making beautiful things made happy workers. They looked to the medieval workshop method of production, in which the craftsman-designer over saw the production of objects from start to finish, as the ideal model of production.

Given the Arts and Crafts Movement's focus on reviving medieval forms and methods of craftsmanship, the art of the book was a natural area of interest, with artists turning to the medieval tradition of illuminated manuscripts for their inspiration.

The most famous Arts and Crafts book artist and publisher, as with most things Arts and Crafts, is William Morris. William Morris was fascinated by medieval manuscripts, such as the ones he saw at Canterbury Cathedral as a young man and the Bodleian Library while a student at Oxford. Morris began experimenting with calligraphy in the 1870s, teaching himself a number of scripts, and learning about the technical aspects of manuscripts, such as margin size and letter spacing. These experiments gave Morris an in depth understanding of the scribal arts, allowing him to do more that simply copy existing styles and texts. During this time, Morris also began to develop a sense of decoration as it related to the text, and with his friend and fellow artist Edward Brune-Jones, produced several manuscripts.

The next step for Morris would be to move from manuscripts to printed books. Morris already had some experience in the printing business, having worked as the editor for the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine as a student in the 1850s. However, he did not begin to seriously think about starting a publishing company until the 1880s. One major problem for Morris was that, in keeping with the Arts and Crafts ideal of the fully integrated craftsman-designer, Morris wanted to design his own type. However, he lacked the specialized skills needed to cut the steel punches used for the first step in that process. This problem was solve in 1888 when Morris realized he could use a new projection and photoengraving technology to design the type at full size, which could then be shrunk down for specialized craftsmen to produce the punches. With this problem solved, Morris was able to set up the Kelmscott Press in 1891, publishing 66 titles in the five years before his death in 1896.

As with many other aspects of the Arts and Crafts Movement, William Morris' Kelmscott Press and its Art of the Book proved very popular in America, particularly the idea of the craftsman-designer producing a “whole book” intended to be a thing of beauty from cover to cover, instead of simply a cheap, mass produced object. Thus, a number of Arts and Crafts presses were founded in America, particularly in the Midwest, with Chicago acting as a major center for Arts and Crafts books. Notable presses included Clerks's Press in Fremont, Ohio, Cranbook Press in Detroit, and Village Press in Park Ridge Illinois. Notable publishers included Herbert Stone &Co., Stone and Kimball, and Way and Williams.

One of the best known examples of American Arts and Crafts books is Auvergne Press' The House Beautiful, which included photographic studies of dried weeds and highly stylized pen and ink designs of flower patterns drawn by Frank Lloyd Wright. The text itself was a reprint of a sermon by William C. Gannett, a famous Unitarian clergyman and social reformer. Gannett was also a friend of Frank Lloyd Wright's uncle and fellow Unitarian minster, Jenkin Lloyd Jones. Although the sermon itself is not particularly inspired, the chance to work in a new medium, and the message itself seemed to have appealed to Wright.

Image 1: Leaf from an Antiphoner from the Franciscan Convent of St. Klara, Cologne, ca. 1350, manuscript cutting. Photo Credit: The V&A Museum.Book makers of the Arts and Crafts Movement were inspired by the medieval manuscripts such as this one. They saw these manuscripts as beautiful works of art made by craftsman-designers who combined technical and design skills to create entire works of art, which were far superior to mass produced books. An antiphoner contains the choral parts sung during Mass by a monastic or other religious community. They were typically written in a large format so the whole choir could read them at the same time.

Image 2: William Morris, Maud, 1893, drawing. Photo Credit: The V&A Museum.William Morris was one of the leading artist and designers of the Arts and Crafts Movement. In 1891 he set up Kelmscott Press. As with other ventures, Morris designed and produced the books as a whole work of art, designing typefaces, page layouts, illustrations, bindings, and covers for each work as a whole.

Image 3: William C Gannet and Frank Lloyd Wright, The House Beautiful, Auvergne Press, 1896-1898. Photo Credit:Princeton University.Frank Lloyd Wright produced a series of photographs and ink drawing designs for Auvergne Press's The House Beautiful, a reprinting of a sermon by Unitarian minister William C. Gannet.

Image 4: Frank Lloyd Wright, Collotype of Weeds for The House Beautiful, Auvergne Press, 1896-1898. Photo Credit: Princeton University.Frank Lloyd Wright produced these collotypes of roadside weeds for Auvergne Press's The House Beautiful. Collotype is an early form of photographic printing, in which plates covered with a light sensitive gelatin is exposed to photographic transparencies.